


The Amazing Cat(like) Man

by onyxamethyst



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Attempt at Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 02:24:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8603539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onyxamethyst/pseuds/onyxamethyst
Summary: Superstar extraordinaire Oh Sehun falls in love at first sight with the cute Chinese staff member Chen, who may not be who he appears to be. Luhan is a very supportive friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [Chenpionships](http://chenpionships.livejournal.com/81810.html). There’s a Mulan quote somewhere in the fic. Some parts are inspired by EXO’s lyrics and some lines are quoted in the fic.

Sehun is in the midst of filming for The Amazing Catman, scene 12, take 3, one of the more emotional scenes in the whole movie really, where Sehun has to gaze moodily at the wall and agonise over his unfairly cruel fate as a werecat with an overly emotional monologue while trying to blink back tears in his eyes, when the door of the recording studio is flung open unceremoniously with an incredibly rude bang.  
  
All heads turn. A young man stands in the doorway, blinking innocently, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. His honey gold hair is styled into an artfully messy look, which goes perfectly with his delicately beautiful features and tastefully ripped jeans.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” the boy apologises, bowing his head a little and grinning sheepishly. “Am I interrupting the filming?”  
  
Almost everyone in the room, apart from Sehun of course, breaks out into hushed, excited whispers. “Of course not!” The director, a pudgy man who is strongly opinionated on Sehun’s display of emotions, or lack thereof, during filming, bellows and almost trips over his feet rushing forward the greet the boy. “My, my, to what do we owe the pleasure of a special visit from Luhan?” He gushes, shaking the boy’s hand vigorously.  
  
“I was just dropping by to visit my friend Sehun as I had a filming nearby,” Luhan smiles angelically. Coos can be heard from the smitten female staff because _look at that smile can I adopt him as my son_. Luhan’s eyes find Sehun’s across the room and he throws him a subtle wink. Sehun gags and rolls his eyes.  
  
Appropriately, the director calls for an hour’s break as everyone is too worked up to actually work.  
  
Luhan kindly rejects an eager stylist’s offer for a tour of the set, flashing a commercial-worthy smile which leaves her hyperventilating as he lopes gracefully towards where Sehun is crossing his arms, curled up on the couch in front of the cameras which are no longer rolling.  
  
“You have tear tracks on your face,” is the first thing the baby-faced fucker says. Sehun scrubs hastily at his cheeks, striding away from the sofa to a safer place at the edge of the set where cameras cannot catch his every single move, Luhan trailing breezily after him, waving at everyone who walks by like the fucking sociable pop star that he is.  
  
“What are you doing here Xiao Lu?” Sehun sighs, sinking into a foldable chair, massaging his temple. His nose still feels runny from all that crying and he sniffs and tries not to sneeze.  
  
“There is an alarming shortage of headlines involving me as the main subject lately,” Luhan jokes, falling into his own folded chair gracefully and slipping on a pair of sunglasses. Sehun snorts at the lie. Luhan is everywhere. He’s already resigned himself to the fact that he has to catch a glimpse Luhan’s face every time he turns on the TV in his hotel room, whether it’s a commercial or entertainment news or one of those reality talk shows.  
  
“Imagine the headlines tomorrow! ‘World famous superstar Luhan blesses the set of EXO-K’s Sehun’s movie with his sparkling presence, in a touching display of true friendship’. How’s that?” Luhan continues, snapping his fingers with a flourish and taps Sehun’s chin in a patronising manner.  
  
“You’re annoying,” Sehun grumbles, swatting Luhan’s hand away. In retaliation, Luhan tries to land a jab on his crotch, which escalates into them wrestling each other in an _absolutely friendly_ headlock.  
  
“You brat-” gasps Luhan, trying to push Sehun down from his chair while Sehun tries to get his hands on Luhan’s limited edition Givenchy sunglasses. Sehun could sell them on Taobao with his signature for probably more than thirty thousand yuan. Luhan does have absurdly rich fans after all.  
  
Sehun is definitely having the upper hand in the spontaneous play fight when there is a dry cough.  
  
Both freeze immediately. Sehun looks up to find, to his mild surprise, a very attractive young man standing in front of him. The model in Sehun can’t help but admire the man’s stunning bone structure, from his gorgeous high cheekbones to his strong, sharp jawline. His eyebrows are adorably slanted, and huge black-framed glasses frame his pretty eyes. What really catches Sehun’s attention though is his kitten mouth, thin, pink and cutely curled upwards at the edges.  
  
The man clears his throat pointedly while arching an eyebrow, corners of his lips lifting further upwards in amusement. Sehun immediately snaps out of his trance with a start. It is then he realises the man is wearing a crew T-shirt with skinny jeans, and in his hands is a box filled with assorted doughnuts.  
  
“Sorry to interrupt, but filming is scheduled to last until late afternoon today, lunch would definitely be later than usual. Would you gentlemen want a doughnut?” The man asks in a cheerful bubbly voice.  
  
Sehun knows just enough Mandarin to understand “director”, “lunch” and “later”. Untangling himself from Luhan, he plucks a bright yellow, smiley-faced doughnut from the pile.  
  
“Th-Thanks,” Sehun replies in Mandarin, stuttering a little over the words. Sehun hopes that he can play the stammering off as not being fluent in the language, and not because he is secretly appreciating the bright tenor of the man’s voice still reverberating in his ears. The Mandarin lessons from his company really came in handy during these few weeks of filming in Shanghai. Although, Sehun has to admit, he can only understand simple phrases and words here and there during conversations with the Chinese staff.  
  
Sehun barely notices Luhan’s curious gaze on him as Luhan takes a doughnut for himself.  
  
“You’re welcome,” the man grins, eyes crinkle into pretty crescents. Sehun could only stare as the man moves on, continuing his noble quest of offering pastries, hope and blinding smiles to the other crew members, like some sort of sugar fairy. Sehun bites into his doughnut and very casually admires the man’s cute perky butt and toned legs in his skinny jeans.  
  
Luhan clicks his tongue. Sehun turns around to witness him smiling like a starving shark that just caught a whiff of a prey’s blood.  
  
“What?” Sehun clears his throat and tries to school his features into his usual mask of nonchalance.  
  
“Ooh, my baby Sehunnie is all grown up and having crushes!” Luhan coos in delight, trying to pinch Sehun’s cheeks.  
  
Sehun pulls a face. “What the fuck. I do not have a crush, are you ten?” he retorts, chewing slowly. Luhan raises a judgemental eyebrow above his sunglasses. “Fine, he’s cute,” Sehun admits, shrugging.  
  
“What would you be willing to sacrifice for his name? It’s written on his nametag in Chinese,” Luhan smirks, eyebrows wiggling. When Sehun first met Luhan during his trainee days, he had found the weird expressions Luhan constantly pulls out of place on a face as pretty and innocent as his, but he’s totally used to it now.  
  
“Fine,” sighs Sehun irritably. “You want the signed Christiano Ronaldo jersey for your birthday?” Internally, he is weeping for the hole burnt through his wallet. Or he could just buy a random jersey and forge Christiano Ronaldo’s signature, though Luhan would most probably find out, being such a crazily dedicated Ronaldo fan.  
  
“I knew I could count on you Sehunnie. His name is Chen,” Luhan smiles teasingly, making smooching faces at Sehun and Sehun has to slap his face away. Luhan pointedly pushes his shades higher up the bridge of his nose using his middle finger.  
  
“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” asks Sehun. While he’s glad to see Luhan (even though it’s debatable really), he’s pretty sure Luhan’s going to be late for whatever schedule he has next if he doesn’t move soon. Luhan’s schedule somehow manages to be more packed than Sehun’s own, and that’s saying something.  
  
“Oops,” Luhan checks his watch and jumps up from his seat, dusting his hands. “Puma’s commercial filming is awaiting my glorious presence.” Wiggling his fingers in goodbye, he turns on his heels and saunters away.  
  
“Chen,” Sehun mutters under his breath, almost absent-mindedly. Chen sounds nice, like oranges in Chinese. Chen. Sehun loves oranges.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
After the first few weeks of relatively accommodating filming hours, filming for The Amazing Catman picks up steam quickly and both cast and crew work tirelessly to keep up with the filming schedule.  
  
Days fly by in a flurry of frenzied filming, which often stretch into the wee hours of the morning. Despite being mentally prepared for the hectic filming schedule, Sehun can’t help but feel overwhelmed. This is his first time taking on a lead role in a movie after all. On average, he gets about three hours of fitful sleep each day, and he often feels like he is surviving solely on caffeine from the coffee his manager sympathetically hands him.  
  
Thus, it comes as no surprise that he hasn’t found the chance to talk to Chen again yet. Chen, who turns out to be a new production assistant of the film crew.  
  
Chen always seems to be busy every time Sehun spots him around. From observing Chen, Sehun learns that production assistants are regularly one of the first to arrive and one of the last to leave the set.  
  
When Sehun arrives earlier than required to the filming location in the early morning, Chen is always there looking wide awake, distributing paperwork and coffee to the groggy staff. When filming finally ends for the day, Chen always stays back to help clean up.  
  
Right now, Sehun is trying his best to stay awake in the midst of filming for an important scene, which is supposed to be a major turning point for his character in the movie. He feels rather drowsy, despite the three cups of coffee he’s had today, but he’s been filming for sixteen hours straight and he’s so worn out he can feel the weariness in his bones.  
  
“I can’t believe it. You’re…actually a cat?” His co-star, the lead actress gasps, her voice trembling in disbelief, eyes wide in shock and mouth agape.  
  
“Werecat,” Sehun attempts to twist his features into an apologetic wince. “But yes, I am.”  
  
“Cut!” The director bellows in annoyance. “Sehun, fix your blank expression. Keep your gaze focused! We’ve been redoing this scene for the fifth time!” Angered, the director flings his script to the ground with a loud smack, everyone jumps in surprise. “Fine, pack up, we’re done for today.”  
  
Sehun takes in a deep shuddering breath, shoulders slumping in defeat. People are still staring at him after the director’s outburst, and his cheeks are burning as he ducks his head, fight or flight instincts kicking in.  
  
Steps unsteady, he wobbles away from the cameras, almost tripping on the stray cords snaking through the floor, brushes off his manager’s concerned grip on his arm and flees from the room. His head spins and he can’t really breathe as all the pressure and stress from the past few weeks weigh down on his chest.  
  
Somehow, he manages to get to the outside of the building they are filming in before his legs give out beneath him and he half-sits, half-falls onto the hard concrete. Leaning against a wall, he sucks in a lungful of the cold humid night air to clear his mind.  
  
Taking note of his surroundings, he realises he just went through a back door and this place is deserted, no crew members or excited fans in sight.  
  
The sky is a dark inky black, stars glittering like distant jewels adorning the fabric of the night. Sehun stares fixedly at the glowing silver moon, jaw clenching, defiantly tries not to blink as his eyes prickle with unshed tears. He misses home and his group members, after weeks of living and working in a foreign country.  
  
And he hates feeling this way, absolutely abhors feeling weak. He’s supposed to be strong, he’s gone so far from being the little boy who was scouted while enjoying a meal of tteokbokki to becoming one of the most in-demand celebrities in the industry today. It’s just a hurdle, thinks Sehun, wiping angrily at his wet cheeks, he just has to put in more work to overcome this.  
  
He snaps his head up immediately as he hears soft patter of approaching footsteps.  
  
The door opens and a figure steps out, and through the dim lighting, Sehun sees it’s Chen, in his usual crew T-shirt and jeans. Sehun is wide-eyed with puzzlement as Chen folds his legs and settles down right next to him on the ground. What is he doing here?  
  
Oddly, Chen isn’t even looking at him, eyes gazing straight at the full moon ahead. Nor does he say anything, for which Sehun is thankful. Should he start a conversation? Nah, he doesn’t think he can handle one in this state. Sehun has no idea what to do, so he just leans back against the hard wall.  
  
The silence is surprisingly comfortable, almost companionable, as they sit there side by side, shoulders brushing. He feels so tired. Just a quick nap, he can’t afford to sleep for too long these days anyway. Sleep is one of the things people in his line of work have to give up, exhaustion is part of his lifestyle, ingrained in his muscles as he dances and smiles and waves. Gradually, Sehun feels himself slipping into a half-sleep state as he unknowingly nods off, head dipping sideways and landing on something bony, that feels suspiciously like…a shoulder.  
  
His eyes fly open, and he is just about to apologise sheepishly when to his surprise, Chen curls an arm around his shoulders and shifts to a more comfortable angle. Slowly, Chen starts pat Sehun’s forearm in a soft, comforting manner.  
  
It feels like an old friend’s familiar embrace, never mind that they are practically strangers, and Sehun can’t help but lean further into his touch, revelling in the warmth emanating from Chen. He’s petite and his shoulder isn’t very broad, but somehow Sehun’s head fits just right, nestled in the juncture between shoulder and neck. His nose nuzzles into Chen’s slender neck. Chen smells like cologne and something sweet, almost like flowers. Chen’s Adam’s apple bobs gently as he swallows.  
  
Softly, Chen begins humming an unfamiliar tune, voice sweet and angelic, steady and smooth like a gently trickling stream, melodic and lilting like a meandering river winding through Sehun’s heart.  
  
Sehun’s eyelids feel heavy once more. He’s cosy and snug, and the soft pulse of Chen’s heartbeat is the only thing he feels before he dozes off into a tranquil slumber.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The next time Sehun’s eyelids flutter open, hours later, Chen isn’t anywhere to be seen. Sehun almost thinks what happened last night was a dream, a hallucination brought on by a lack of sleep. However, a fluffy pillow is tucked between his neck and shoulder, and a can of Chinese herbal tea is lying innocently in his lap. Sehun smiles softly at the sticky note attached to the can, ‘hwaiting!’ scribbled in Korean characters with a smiley face. It isn’t a dream after all.  
  
Sehun picks up the can, and he can’t help but let out a touched sniffle. His heart swells in happiness and he feels so warm inside. Somehow, this simple act of encouragement is exactly what Sehun needs to get back on his feet again. Plus, it doesn’t escape his notice that Chen wrote in Korean specifically for _him_. Chen probably knows Sehun misses home, and did whatever he could to comfort him by writing Sehun motivational phrases in his native language.  
  
Cheered up and rejuvenated, Sehun ambles to work with a giddy smile on his face.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sehun feels like he should treat Chen to dinner to express his gratitude for being there for him during his moment of weakness. Okay, fine, he admits he wants to have dinner with Chen in a not-so-platonic way.  
  
And he has a perfect idea. He’s totally going to ask Chen out in Chen’s mother tongue, a.k.a. Mandarin, to show that he’s a sincere guy. Sehun has a sudden mental image of him suavely spouting a string of fluent Mandarin, and Chen will be so swept off his feet with hearts in his eyes by Sehun’s dashingly handsome looks and his amazing Mandarin.  
  
Thus, begins Sehun’s arduous and treacherous journey of conquering one of the hardest languages in the world. However, very soon into his noble quest, Sehun runs into a few major issues.  
  
The main problem: Mandarin is freaking _difficult_. Scratch that, it’s almost _impossible_. Even though he’s had Mandarin classes given by his company, there’s no way at all he will be able to miraculously master the language and transform into the Chinese prince of Chen’s dreams within a few days.  
  
After a confusing night of flipping through his copy of ‘Mandarin Made Easier’ to not much fruitful result, Sehun goes to sleep with a pounding headache, mind swimming with random Chinese characters. He falls into a dream of a sparkly pink “鹿”Chinese character with deer antlers, stubby limbs and Luhan’s creepy too-wide smile trying to ask him out for dinner, but the dream turns into a sinister nightmare when out of nowhere it tries to suffocate him with a book full of foreign words. Sehun wakes up panting hard, forehead breaking out in cold sweat, the Mandarin instruction book digging painfully into his back.  
  
Okay. Fine. So maybe Sehun shouldn’t learn the language from scratch. He stuffs the book into the closet and stacks a pile of clothes on it as a self-preservation measure. Disgruntled and fingers still shaking slightly from the oddly vivid dream, he googles ‘basic sentences in Mandarin’.  
  
To his relief, he finds that SM’s Mandarin classes have more than covered the ten most basic conversational sentences in the language. Who knew his classes can come in handy in the romance department one day?  
  
“Ní hǎo,” he mutters. “Wǒ shì wú shì xūn.” Right. These are so basic. He’s totally getting the hang of this. “Nǐ chī bǎo le mā?” Hmm. According to this website, the sentence means ‘have you eaten?’, which, if you ask Sehun, is the perfect opening to ask Chen out for a meal! Sehun mentally pats his metaphorical back. Problem solved in less than five minutes! He’s such a genius, Google is such a genius.  
  
The next time Sehun spots Chen is in the hallway of the studio complex. The man is busy lugging around a large, heavy-looking box of filming equipment, steps wobbling a little unsteadily.  
  
Sehun immediately swoops in to take the box from Chen’s arms, and almost drops it. Shit this box must weigh a tonne, what are the equipment made of, lead?  
  
Chen looks up in surprise before he realises it’s Sehun and his eyes light up instantly. “Kamsahabnida,” he grins gratefully. Sehun’s heart melts. It’s so cute that Chen is trying to speak to him in Korean. Chen proceeds to massage his sore arms and Sehun’s eyes are helplessly drawn to his quite nicely toned biceps.  
  
Sehun gulps and shifts the box in his arms. Now Chen’s eyes flick to Sehun’s arms and Sehun tries to discreetly flex his muscles. He sure hopes Chen noticed his biceps straining against the rolled up sleeves.  
  
It’s now or never. Sehun clears his throat, extremely nervous all of a sudden, heart pounding in his chest.  
  
“Nǐ - nǐ chī bǎo le mā?” Gosh, why did he stutter?  
  
For some reason, Chen looks very bewildered at his question, as if he had suddenly grown two heads, slanted eyebrows disappearing under his bangs. Shit, did he butcher the sentence that terribly? Sehun tries desperately to not let his confident demeanour slip and is about to repeat his question when Chen nods hesitantly.  
  
“Ne,” Chen replies with wide eyes, pushing up his glasses. He looks so adorable Sehun feels his focus wavering, he yearns to just reach out and caress his cheeks, just brush his fingers across his sharp cheekbones to know if his skin is as soft-  
  
“Sehun!” A shrill scream suddenly reverberates through the hallway. A high-pitched squeal follows immediately after. Dread washes over Sehun like a wave as he whips around.  
  
A young girl is standing at the opposite end of the hallway, hands waving around a cardboard sign spelling out Sehun’s name with copious amounts of pink glitter. How did she even get in through all the security?  
  
In the midst of all that confusion, Sehun totally forgot about the box he’s still carrying and his fingers slip. Sharp pain shoots up his leg as the box lands on his foot with a resounding thud. Nope, he certainly did not shriek in pain. “Shit shit shit!” Sehun hisses, hopping around on his other foot.  
  
The fan’s scream hikes up a few decibels. Chen grips his arm in concern. “Gwaenchanayo?” He asks worriedly.  
  
Sehun groans and only wishes for the ground to swallow him up to put an end to this embarrassment. Being embarrassed in front of his crush is way worse than that time during trainee days when he got drunk at a post-evaluation party, made out with Luhan in his drunken haze, ended up in Luhan’s dorm for the night and had to slink down the walk of shame the next morning with hickeys blooming on his neck, Luhan’s roommate Tao snickering behind his back.  
  
In a last ditch attempt to save himself from further humiliation, Sehun spins on his heels and limps away as fast as his legs can bring him, trying to ignore Chen’s surprised expression burned into his memory as he fled like a coward with his tail tucked between his legs.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Fuck that was so embarrassing!” Sehun moans pitifully at Joonmyun’s grainy image on his laptop screen for the millionth time in an hour. Joonmyun tries to be an understanding leader and nods sympathetically at that, but Sehun can see that his patience is wearing thin from the way his face is starting to gain that pinched look when he’s tired.  
  
Joonmyun sighs deeply. “Well, I did offer to set you up with my cousin. You wouldn’t be in this predicament if you’re seeing him instead.”  
  
Sehun scoffs. He wouldn’t be caught on a date ever with one of Junmyeon’s cousins, who probably was educated in a highly exclusive Gangnam private school, enjoys wearing preppy argyle sweaters and lists golfing as his primary hobby.  
  
“I wouldn’t want anyone but Chen,” sniffs Sehun haughtily. From his regular observation - he refuses to call it spying - Chen is easy-going and effortlessly sunny, exactly what Sehun needs to break through his outer shell of diffidence that some people mistake as coldness, to unleash the whiny and talkative Sehun within.  
  
“Plus, he’s thoughtful and considerate,” adds Sehun. “He’s the only person here who has tried to speak Korean to me so far.” Who cares if it’s only a few words and a sticky note, any effort is worthy of praise in Sehun’s eyes. “So I’m going to try to speak to him in Mandarin in return.” To prove that Sehun is also an extremely thoughtful guy who can put in great effort in achieving goals too.  
  
Joonmyun sighs for the umpteenth time and sags into the sofa. Behind him, Baekhyun whizzes past the living room into the kitchen, cackling madly.  
  
“If you’re so determined to-” Joonmyun is abruptly cut off by a deafening crash, followed by a loud clang of metal against marble.  
  
All is unnaturally silent for a few seconds, and then Baekhyun shrieks off-screen. “Look, I’m sorry Soo! I didn’t mean to crash into that pot, it was just in my way – wait, put down that bloody knife!”  
  
Joonmyun rolls his eyes and attempts to talk over Baekhyun’s blood-curling screams. “If you’re so determined to impress this guy with your amazing Mandarin skills or something, why don’t you do something like, I don’t know, write him a letter?”  
  
Sehun groans, thumping his head onto the keyboard. “Shut up hyung, sometimes you’re so archaic I’m embarrassed for you. Literally no one writes love letters these days, except for elementary school kids and weird people like you.”  
  
Joonmyun opens his mouth indignantly to reply, and Baekhyun lets out another ear-splitting screech from the kitchen. Sehun can practically see the last thread of Joonmyun’s patience snap as he calmly places the laptop on the table next to the couch, and marches over to the kitchen.  
  
Seconds later, he emerges again cuffing both Baekhyun and Kyungsoo at the neck, both of them somehow managing to look extremely disgruntled and sheepish at the same time, their clothes covered with flakes and pieces of overturned kimchi. Joonmyun wrestles the knife out of Kyungsoo’s grip and shoves both of them through the door and into Kyungsoo’s room directly behind the living room. The door bangs shut as Joonmyun locks the door from the outside.  
  
“Make up or make out, I don’t care!” Joonmyun yells, rapping on the door before settling back down on the couch and turning to the laptop.  
  
“Pardon me. What were you saying again?” Joonmyun asks, smiling angelically with the knife still glinting dangerously in his grasp. The hard glint in his eyes does not go unnoticed by Sehun.  
  
“Nothing hyung. Actually, I think I have to go, have a good day!” Sehun chuckles nervously, waving as he ends the call. Joonmyun nods and waves back in a jolly manner, perfect sparkling teeth on full display.  
  
Phew. Sometimes Joonmyun hyung can be scary.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Despite Sehun’s initial aversion, Joonmyun’s nonchalant advice somehow sticks to his mind. Before he realises it, he starts pondering the idea of actually writing a confession note, no matter how silly and lame that sounds. The more he thinks about it, the more plausible the idea becomes. If he couldn’t impress Chen verbally with his Mandarin, he could do so through written words.  
  
Of course, he wouldn’t be able to write it himself, but someone can translate Sehun’s heartfelt words from Korean to Chinese. And to do that, he needs to enlist the help of his best Chinese friend.  
  
Sehun huffs as he arrives in front of Luhan’s luxury apartment unit, bearing gift and offering in the form of steamed Shanghai soup dumplings. He punches in the security code (birthdate of Minseok, Luhan’s boyfriend who is also his manager) and flings the door open-  
  
-only to find Luhan and Minseok passionately making out on the living room carpet. Minseok gasps as he sees Sehun and tries to shove Luhan off of him, but moans as Luhan completely ignores Sehun while he nips at Minseok’s neck.  
  
“You like that Minseok?” Luhan growls in a gruff voice as he digs his fingers into Minseok’s hips. “You like that Sehun’s watching our every single move? See how eager you are for me?”  
  
Sehun can’t believe Luhan’s audacity. He has to take a deep breath to refrain himself from doing anything rash, like flinging the hot dumplings at Luhan’s pretty face, because _he needs Luhan’s help, that’s right, keep it cool and classy Oh Sehun_.  
  
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I am not into voyeurism. Get up peasants.” Sehun steps delicately over the two still tangled together in a heap on the floor, “Even though I know it’s just in your nature to be-” He glances down at them, “-below me.”  
  
Minseok clambers up from the carpet, cheeks red and not meeting Sehun’s eyes as he quickly excuses himself from the apartment, mumbling something about schedule changes and running errands. Luhan pouts wistfully at his retreating back before fixing Sehun with a glare.  
  
“You scared Minseokie away!” Luhan whines, lips swollen and hair tousled, but not in the artfully messy way it usually is. Strands of hair are sticking up at odd angles, making him resemble a porcupine.  
  
Sehun shrugs. He does feel a little terrible about being such an annoying cockblock, but his issue is more important. His love life is at stake. He opens the lid of the box he’s been holding, revealing mouth-watering juicy xiaolongbaos that fill the room with an enticing aroma.  
  
“I have a proposition for you.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
To Sehun’s utmost surprise, Luhan agrees to aid Sehun in writing the letter without demanding for anything in return.  
  
Naturally, Sehun is very suspicious. He squints across the table at Luhan, who is happily munching on the dumplings, cheeks puffed out. Luhan meets Sehun’s narrowed eyes with an innocent smile, the same one that had won him the ‘Most Beautiful Man in Asia’ award, and Sehun is willing to bet his entire baseball cap collection that some grand evil scheme is currently taking form in Luhan’s twisted brain.  
  
“What? Why are you looking at me that way?” Luhan raises his eyebrows defensively. “Don’t you trust your best friend?” He clears his throat. “Fine, I know I did some… questionable things in the past -”  
  
Sehun snorts. “Remember that time when everyone got wasted in the dorms, and you crossdressed as a girl? And you almost ended up in a threesome with Joonmyun hyung and Kyungsoo hyung? ‘Questionable’ is such a nice way of putting it.”  
  
Luhan shrugs noncommittally, completely unremorseful. “It’s not really my fault Luhua is everyone’s ideal type. Admit it, you were totally trying to look up my skirt.”  
  
Sehun wrinkles his nose, unimpressed with Luhan’s completely untruthful slander. He’s mentally compiling a list of ridiculous shit Luhan did when Luhan changes the topic. “Anyway, what do you plan to write in your little love letter Sehunnie?”  
  
“Um,” Sehun furrows his brows, a little taken aback. He isn’t the best with words, he doesn’t consider himself to be particularly romantic or anything, and he has no prior experience whatsoever at this whole confession business, since it’s usually done the other way round, what with cute teenage fans proclaiming their eternal love to him on a daily basis and all.  
  
“Wait,” Luhan raises a finger, rummaging in his pocket with his other hand before letting out a triumphant “aha!” and whips out a huge pair of glasses with leopard print frames. Perching the pair of spectacles on his nose, he waves a hand. “Please continue.”  
  
Sehun raises a judgemental eyebrow. “Those do not even have lenses.” His friend quirks an amused smile back at him, looking like a real-life manga character with his golden hair and sparkling eyes.  
  
“Ah Sehunnie, stop pretending that you didn’t wear them too. But that’s not the point here.” Luhan somehow manages to procure a pen and a piece of paper from the messy pile of assorted items on the kitchen counter.  
  
Sehun racks his brains for some brilliantly touching yet sweetly genuine lines.  
  
“Uh. What about this. You’re so cute that I was breathless the first time I laid eyes you, because you took my breath away…….?” Fuck that sounds terrible even to Sehun’s own ears. He tries again.  
  
“You’re nice and kind. And you’re kinda pretty. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.” Fuck he can’t do this. He really can’t. His cheeks are scorching and it’s so embarrassing to say these ridiculously sappy stuff to Luhan, who he’s pretty sure has the recording app open on his phone under the table for future blackmail material.  
  
But he thinks of Chen, the sincere way he tries to help everyone to the best of his abilities, the bright timbre of his carefree laugh, envisions his bright smile that lights up his face and the flame in Sehun’s heart, and he ploughs on.  
  
“So let’s be together so we can -” he pauses and tries to think of normal cheesy couple-y stuff that he would usually scoff at, but the notion of walking down a pristine beach hand in hand with Chen, leaving footprints in the sand behind them, with the setting sun spilling orange gold light as backdrop seems pretty good right now. He swallows. “Let’s be together so we can take a stroll on the beach or the park or build a snowman or go stargazing together.”  
  
There’s a pause. “You’re not very eloquent are you?” Luhan says eventually. “Nor are you very creative.” But his gaze is soft and understanding, and he reaches out to pat Sehun’s hair slowly, like he’s a child. “Anyway, I got your point, my little pining male protagonist. Fear not my child, for I am the most seasoned writer of confession notes to convey your ardent admiration. You do your best, and leave the rest to Lu ge, okay?”  
  
Sehun groans and face plants into marble table. He will never admit it, but Luhan’s pats on his head feel kind of soothing and nice.  
  
“There, there,” Luhan clicks his tongue. “Everything will be perfectly fine, my precious noodle. The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of them all.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
These days, Sehun had gotten so good at discreetly keeping tabs on Chen (read: casually glancing at Chen’s general vicinity every five minutes to appreciate the masterpiece that is his face), he might as well reconsider a career in espionage.  
  
Most of the time when he peeks over the top of his script, under the pretense of memorising his lines, his eyes automatically seek out Chen, who is more often than not yapping into his walkie-talkie and buzzing around the set like a busy bumblebee. The sight is so distressingly cute Sehun has to stifle a smile behind his palm.  
  
Some of the time, Chen’s workload is presumably less as he can be seen chatting with the other members of the filming crew. To Sehun’s chagrin, Chen is a noona magnet and most of the ladies are drawn in by his bright demeanour, leaving a sour taste on Sehun’s tongue as a few pretty makeup artists laugh delightedly at one of Chen’s jokes.  
  
In short, Chen is always hovering somewhere in Sehun’s peripheral vision, thus it’s quite a surprise when Sehun settles down next to his manager during lunch with his bowl of noodles that he discovers Chen isn’t anywhere to be found. He stabs at the noodles moodily with his chopsticks. He’s been banking on Chen to be present during lunch – the only time everyone isn’t too busy with work – so he could casually ask to talk to him in private and casually shove the freshly-written letter into Chen’s hands.  
  
The rest of lunch trickles by without a hint of Chen, and he decides to dump his half-eaten noodles. Striding out of the cafeteria, Sehun makes a split second decision to forgo the elevator in favour of climbing up six flights of stairs to the next filming location; the exercise will definitely do him good. He’s halfway up the third flight of stairs, just starting to get a little breathless with the exertion, when he looks up and stops short, heart pounding in his chest.  
  
On the landing up a flight of stairs from where he stands, sits the man who now constantly plagues his mind, cross-legged and eyes closed, back leaning against a wall. Sehun ascends the steps as quietly as he can, careful not to rouse Chen from his nap.  
  
Thankfully, Chen seems to be fast asleep, chest rising and falling rhythmically, face serene and peaceful. Sunlight streaming in from a nearby window throws his features into sharp relief, and Sehun can’t help himself from staring, tracing over the corners of his lips, lifted slightly in their permanent curl, over the slope of his nose, over long eyelashes slightly fluttering as they cast delicate fan-like shadows on his high cheekbones.  
  
Rummaging through his bag, Sehun pulls out a hot pink envelope, wincing at the choice of colour. Seriously, Luhan? Hot pink? Sehun is sure his friend is out to get him.  
  
He tucks the envelope between Chen’s slack fingers resting in his lap. Chen sniffles and shifts, fingers curling around the envelope, and Sehun freezes, looking up in alarm. Thankfully, he resumes sleeping. Sehun sighs in relief.  
  
Up close, he can appreciate how silky Chen’s jet black hair is, glossy in the afternoon sunlight. Involuntarily, his fingers inch closer, itching for a touch. He discovers Chen’s hair is really as soft as it looks. Slightly braver, he lightly brushes back Chen’s bangs from his eyes. Sehun hopes he’s having a pleasant dream.  
  
Reluctantly, Sehun retracts his hand, shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. Turning on his heels, he walks away with a small smile, heart inexplicably lighter.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Jongdae is confused. He is very confused.  
  
He had woken up from a brief afternoon nap (working as a production assistant is incredibly taxing) and discovered with some surprise that he was clutching an envelope so ridiculously pink that it hurt his eyes just by staring at it for longer than five seconds. He’s completely sure he’s never seen this particular envelope in his whole life, and he has no idea how it had gotten into his hands.  
  
Even baffling still, he had pried open the seal on the back (a piece of Hello Kitty tape, he’s starting to have a sneaking suspicion that this is a prank) only to find a piece of light pink lined paper covered in scratchy handwriting.  
  
Jongdae had stared at it for a long minute. He’s very, very confused.  
  
The letter is written completely in Chinese, and he has totally no idea what it’s all about.  
  
Okay, fine, he’s not an idiot, this looks like a common confession letter that one might see in high school rom-coms (that he will never admit to watching), but he’s not aware of any blushing teenagers crushing on him.  
  
Plus, Jongdae couldn’t read Chinese characters at all; save for a few commonly used words and his own name. Sure, he might be able to converse in Mandarin pretty fluently (though most native Mandarin speakers are still able to pick up his slight accent), a skill he has gained from living in Shanghai for almost five years now. He has managed to pick up the language quite speedily with the generous help of his Chinese friends.  
  
However, speaking the language and reading it are two different matters altogether. The Chinese characters are notoriously difficult to learn, as each word has a uniquely different character, and Jongdae has only managed to survive in the bustling city by memorising crucial characters on signboards and relying on (not so trusty) translation websites or his trusty friends throughout the years for situations involving the more complicated usage of the language.  
  
Now he’s back in his flat, clutching the letter in one hand and knocking lightly on Yixing’s door with the other. A faint “come in!” can be heard from inside the room, and Jongdae turns the doorknob and pushes open the door.  
  
Yixing is sitting on the bed, humming to himself under his breath while strumming chords on his guitar. His multilingual flatmate is a dance teacher by weekdays and plays the guitar in a band during weekend nights.  
  
Yixing looks up from playing the A chord and smiles, dimple flashing. “You’re back,” he mutters in greeting, placing the guitar carefully against a table.  
  
“Yeah. Hey Yixing, do you mind sparing a moment to translate this for me? No idea whom it’s from,” Jongdae hands over the piece of pink paper, and Yixing raises a curious eyebrow at it. “Sure,” he shrugs, eyes flitting across the page as he unfolds the letter and starts reading.  
  
Jongdae watches, bemused, as Yixing’s expression twists with a mixture of incredulity and amusement, eyebrows disappearing further up his bangs with each passing moment. Yixing is biting his lip in an obvious attempt not to laugh, before he finally gives into temptation and erupts in a fit of guffaws, laughing so hard he’s slapping his palm on his lap as his chuckles bounce off the walls.  
  
“What? What’s so funny?” Jongdae whines impatiently. The suspense is overwhelming. He knew it, it must’ve been a prank.  
  
“Dear Chen Chen,” Yixing reads, voice trembling with mirth. “My darling citrus fruit. You might be astonished to receive this letter, but I can simply no longer conceal my blossoming love and desire for you.”  
  
“Wait,” Jongdae raises a finger. “Dear Chen Chen? My darling citrus fruit? What the fuck did this person just call me an orange?”  
  
“Well, you have to admit the pronunciation is quite similar, Chengzi,” remarks Yixing. Jongdae grumbles under his breath. He had initially picked up the name “Chen” as it’s easier for the Chinese to remember him with that than his Korean name, but he doesn’t really appreciate being called a fruit as a form of endearment, thank you very much.  
  
“You are the mesmerizing yet mysterious full moon to my inner wolf, the untouchable innocent beauty to my raging beast.”  
  
“What the – ”  
  
“My precious love, the light of my life, you are the breath-taking flower that blooms in the dark abyss of my lonesome heart.”  
  
“Wait – ”  
  
“Your tempting blood is the only ambrosia in the world I crave desperately for.”  
  
“Vampire much? Whoever wrote this must’ve been very inspired by Twilight.” Jongdae quips.  
  
“I often dream of our passionate embrace beneath starry skies, with no one but the moon and fireflies to witness our remarkable romance.”  
  
“That sounds like a voyeuristic fantasy,” Jongdae cuts in. “Involving lightning bugs.”  
  
“I think that was supposed to be romantic,” Yixing whispers back, scandalised. Jongdae shrugs.  
  
“Ooh, here’s the good part,” Yixing clears his throat. “Oh babe, how I wish to spread you out on my bed, like butter on bread. I will eat you out like top grade cheese.”  
  
Jongdae’s jaw drops, this is beyond ridiculous. “Who the fuck talks about rimming in a confession letter?”  
  
Yixing’s eyes twinkle, and a sense of dread washes over Jongdae. “No. Stop right there, Yixing. Please don’t continue. I think I’m scarred for life already,” he whines, but Yixing pays him no heed.  
  
“And when you finally melt in my mouth in the most euphoric burst of white, I will drink you up like the most refined wine.”  
  
Jongdae is kind of speechless. He’s pretty sure his eyebrows are going to be permanently upturned by how hard he’s raising them. “Huh, I’m not sure if I should feel flattered or weirded out. What’s pretty clear is this most certainly is a joke.”  
  
“It’s weird but these lines do seem kind of familiar. And,” Yixing blinks, “it’s signed by a Wu Shixun.”  
  
Jongdae’s heart skips a beat. Wu Shixun. He’s heard the name being called at work on a daily basis, since they started filming the new drama about the shapeshifting cat-human. Oh Sehun. Jongdae snorts. There’s no way at all Oh Sehun, male lead of the movie is interested in him. He can’t possibly be interested in plain old Jongdae, who works for a movie crew and who doesn’t belong under blinding stage lights and cameras and thousands of adoring fans. Don’t get him wrong, Jongdae knows he’s charming and funny and quite a looker, a pretty great guy really, but a millionaire superstar of Sehun’s calibre is just way out of his league.  
  
“This just proves that it’s a prank,” Jongdae says finally. “The guy is an idol, Yixing. Plus, he couldn’t even speak Mandarin; much less write a whole letter such as this.”  
  
“What if it isn’t?” Yixing questions. “A prank, I mean. It might not be.”  
  
This really got Jongdae thinking.  
  
His thoughts wander to Oh Sehun, tall, lanky Sehun, with his sharp, regal face which seems to be chiselled from marble and unfairly perfect body proportions, a small waist and impossibly long legs. Oh Sehun, who might look unimpressed and bored out of his mind most of the time, but is actually just a kid beneath that tough exterior, who looked painfully young and exhausted with tears in his eyes the night Jongdae had found him curled up and alone.  
  
Somehow, Sehun has managed to awaken Jongdae’s maternal instincts and his cute guy radar at the same time. That night, when Sehun had seemed so small and defeated, purple shadows beneath his eyes and face pale and sunken, Jongdae had yearned to pull him into his arms for a comforting hug and feed him some warm soup and probably, kiss away the furrow between his strong eyebrows.  
  
And there, Jongdae has his answer to Yixing’s question. He meets Yixing’s eyes, and his friend smiles at him kindly, concern evident in his eyes.  
  
“I just want you to be happy,” Yixing says, taking Jongdae’s hands in his. All Jongdae can do is to smile back, squeezing Yixing’s fingers in his.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sehun groans into his pillow as his phone rings obnoxiously, rudely interrupting his precious sleep. Reaching out with his eyes closed, he fumbles around the nightstand, fingers closing around his phone. Without bothering to check the caller’s ID, he swipes across the screen and grunts.  
  
“Sehunnie!” Junmyeon’s tinny voice blares out from the speakers. Sehun huffs and moves the phone further away from his ear.  
  
“Hyung,” he whines, rolling to his side. “It’s like, what,” he glances at the screen, “eight a.m.? Congratulations, you just ruined my chance at getting an eight-hour sleep for the first time in a month.”  
  
“Guess what?” Joonmyun continues on merrily. “I’m visiting in five hours!”  
  
“What,” Sehun mumbles, still not fully awake. He rubs at his eyes and sits up, sheets pooling at his waist. He still feels slightly disoriented.  
  
“Yes, you heard right. I’m flying to Shanghai to visit you, you ungrateful kid. Heard from the manager you weren’t sleeping all that well. Someone has to go over there and shove vitamins down your throat.”  
  
Sehun squints sceptically at the screen. He finds it hard to believe Joonmyun would spend one of his rare days off to fly all the way here just to feed him vitamins. Joonmyun must’ve sensed it as he hastily backtracks. “Fine, I’m visiting my cousin too. He’s doing some work in Shanghai. Anyway, meet me for dinner? My treat. How do you feel about hotpot?”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sehun stops in front of a carved wooden door and squints at his phone, before glancing up at the room number above the door. According to Joonmyun’s earlier message, he has arrived at the right private dining room Joonmyun has reserved at an exclusive (read: expensive) Chinese restaurant, which is apparently famous for its hotpot.  
  
Honestly speaking, Sehun hadn’t felt like going out to a fancy restaurant for dinner. But how could he have the heart to reject Joonmyun? One mental image of Joonmyun’s disappointed pout and crestfallen eyes has Sehun’s insides churning with something akin to guilt.  
  
He contemplates knocking, but remembers this is Joonmyun hyung, who leaves food crumbs and stray sweaters all over Sehun’s bed, and squashes the thought. He reaches out and pushes the door open with a creak.  
  
Sehun looks up, and is immediately frozen to the spot, eyes wide.  
  
Two men are across from each other at opposite ends of the circular dining table. One of them is unmistakeably Joonmyun, eyes warm and smile genial as always, dressed casually in a green sweater and jeans.  
  
And the other guy is… Chen.  
  
Sehun’s mind screeches to a momentary halt and gallops into overdrive like a mad, reinless stallion. What the heck was Chen, of all people, doing here? Why is the object of his infatuation casually sitting right next to Joonmyun, as if they were close friends? Sehun has no idea at all that they even knew each other in person, much less being _friends_.  
  
Sehun’s heart drops as if it were freefalling down the Grand Canyon. Fuck. What if they are together? He knows that it’s highly unlikely, but that doesn’t stop him from breaking out in cold sweat, dread filling his veins and weighing him down like heavy stones.  
  
“Oh, it’s you,” Chen greets in a mild tone, though his expression is unreadable, lips tilting slightly upwards. Sehun is in too much shock to realise he’s speaking perfect Korean. Everything is very silent for an awkward moment.  
  
Joonmyun chuckles awkwardly, obviously trying to alleviate the tense atmosphere, eyes darting between the two of them.  
  
“Well, it seems like you two are well-acquainted,” Joonmyun clears his throat and gestures towards Sehun. “Jongdae, this is Sehunnie. Sehun, meet my cousin Jongdae. I told you he’s working in Shanghai, didn’t I?”  
  
The relief that courses through Sehun is so potent, he feels like slumping into the nearest chair. Chen, or Jongdae, is Joonmyun’s cousin, which means they aren’t together, which is amazing news. It means Sehun isn’t breaking the bro code by crushing on his friend’s boyfriend or whatever. But wait, did he say cousin?  
  
“You’re the cousin Joonmyun hyung has been trying to set me up with?” Unbelievable. Fuck, if Sehun knew Joonmyun’s cousin is _Jongdae_ , he would’ve agreed to a date in a heartbeat. He’s vaguely aware of Joonmyun’s indignant sputtering in the background.  
  
“And you’re Joonmyun hyung’s bratty dongasaeng,” Jongdae shoots back, now looking slightly amused, lips quirking up higher at the edges like a playful kitten discovering a new ball of yarn. It’s Sehun’s turn to stutter in an affronted manner, scowling at Joonmyun for his blatant betrayal.  
  
Joonmyun coughs into a fist and tries desperately to divert the topic. “I invited Jongdae for dinner too, I hope you won’t mind Sehunnie. We don’t really have the chance to meet up often, what with us living in different countries.”  
  
Sehun couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I thought you were Chinese!” He exclaims, ignoring Joonmyun. By now, he has regained adequate sense to realise Jongdae’s Korean is perfect, which means the language barrier he has been agonizing about all this while is completely non-existent. Sehun feels like he’s been living in a lie his whole life.  
  
“Why were you always speaking in Mandarin when you knew Korean all this time?”  
  
“Probably because I’m living and working in China?” Jongdae shrugs, as if to say ‘duh’. “Plus, you’re the one who kept insisting on speaking Mandarin to me during the few times we’ve spoken. Wait,” Jongdae’s face brightens in realisation, as if a light bulb went on in his mind.  
  
“Is that why,” he says very slowly, enunciating every syllable, “you sent me,” he whips out a very familiar pink envelope, “this?”  
  
Sehun’s eyes widen and he can feel his cheeks warming, fumbling for words that wouldn’t come, but before he can explain himself, Jongdae beats him to it.  
  
“Ooh, so it’s really from you,” Jongdae’s feline grin widens in a way that is positively salacious, eyebrows arching up in a suggestive manner. In the midst of his embarrassment, Sehun can’t believe he still thinks Jongdae looks enticingly beautiful. “I had no idea you feel such… strongly towards me.”  
  
Joonmyun chokes on his tea, coughing uncontrollably and face red and spluttering. Sehun has almost forgotten he’s still in the room. Without even glancing away from Sehun, Jongdae starts patting Joonmyun on his back, handing him a fresh napkin with his other hand.  
  
“Excuse me, I need to use the washroom,” Joonmyun hastily ups and leaves the room, brushing past Sehun and looking helplessly resigned.  
  
“So,” Jongdae continues, still smirking like the Cheshire cat, “I have to say I’m quite surprised when I read your letter Sehunnie. You’re quite upfront and bold, aren’t you?” Sehun’s skin tingles pleasantly at the way the nickname rolls of Jongdae’s tongue, before the meaning of Jongdae’s second sentence sinks in.  
  
“What do you mean?” Sehun frowns. He has a gradual sinking feeling Luhan’s letter isn’t exactly written in a way he himself would’ve worded it.  
  
Jongdae hums, and starts reciting the letter from memory. “Dear Chen Chen, my darling citrus fruit…”  
  
Sehun listens to the whole thing with growing mortification. The first sentence already has him grimacing, and it only gets increasingly ridiculous from there.  
  
By the last sentence, his cheeks are scorching unbearably and he feels such a strong mix of embarrassment and anger he’s going to strangle Luhan for doing this to him. He’s definitely going to upload all of Luhan’s pouting high school selfies with terrible dye jobs onto the internet. ‘You do your best, and leave the rest to Lu ge’, his ass. Luhan is a terrible friend.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Sehun whispers after a too-long beat. “My friend Luhan wrote this because I thought you wouldn’t understand it if I wrote in Korean, and I didn’t know–” He sucks in a deep breath and bows his head in defeat.  
  
“Do you not mean anything by it then?” Jongdae asks quietly, and for some reason, he sounds disappointed. Sehun still can’t muster the courage to look him in the eyes, the letter had made him sound like a major creep after all.  
  
“I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable or anything. I will just–” Sehun turns on his heels towards the door. He completely understands if Jongdae never wants to see him again, but Jongdae’s next sentence has him whipping back around in shock.  
  
“Is this a joke, then? Something funny that you can tell your friends? Do you not mean anything by it?” Jongdae’s voice is steady, but Sehun can detect the faint wobble of emotion underneath. Despite his words, his eyes are wide, dark and beseeching, almost vulnerable.  
  
Sehun is shocked. “Of course I mean it,” he replies vehemently. “I would never lie about something like that. I,” he pauses, closing his eyes momentarily to gather the courage, then opens them to look earnestly into Jongdae’s eyes.  
  
“I like you. I’ve liked you since the first time I saw you, but then you were such a nice guy, and then I liked you more. I really, really like you a lot, I promise.” Sehun isn’t the most eloquent person around, but he hopes that would convey his sincere feelings.  
  
After hearing his words, Jongdae’s eyes light up, and oh, is his grin usually so blinding? “Okay,” Jongdae murmurs, standing up from his chair and approaching Sehun with small steps. Sehun’s brain short-circuits, because Jongdae is fucking smouldering, looking up at him through those thick lashes.  
  
“Okay,” Jongdae breathes, finally pausing right in front of Sehun, barely any distance between them. Peering down, Sehun can count the moles on Jongdae’s smooth skin and feel his gentle exhale against his neck. He’s so tiny. His heart is thundering so loudly in his chest he wonders if Jongdae is able to hear it.  
  
“Okay,” Jongdae whispers, standing up on his tiptoes and pressing his lips to Sehun’s in a swift motion. Their first kiss is chaste, innocent and sweet as Jongdae winds his arms around Sehun’s shoulders before pulling away.  
  
Sehun’s senses snap into motion, and he immediately wraps an arm around Jongdae’s waist to pull him in again, moulding their mouths together once more. Sehun licks his way into Jongdae’s mouth, tongues twisting together, bodies pressing so close he can feel Jongdae’s fluttering heartbeat. Breathing hard as they pull apart, Sehun belatedly realises Jongdae tastes like Chinese tea, with a sweet and refreshing fragrance, and an overpowering urge to taste more of that fills Sehun.  
  
“Wanna grab lunch together tomorrow?” Jongdae asks shyly, a pretty pale pink dusting his cheeks, eyelashes fluttering rapidly with every blink. Sehun nods, laughing against his lips.  
  
As Jongdae beams up at him, bright and dazzling like the sun, Sehun knows he’s in love.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sehun inhales deeply as Jongdae trails kisses down his neck, teeth scraping across the skin, teasing and sending warm tingles down Sehun’s spine. He digs his fingers into Jongdae’s hips just above the waistband of his jeans, revelling in the soft gasp against his collarbone. Inching his fingers slowly down towards the zipper, Sehun flicks his gaze upwards briefly, something catching his eye, and he does a double take in disbelief.  
  
“What,” Jongdae groans into Sehun’s shoulder when Sehun stops his ministrations completely, retracting himself from Jongdae as he squints at the wall.  
  
“Why is there a poster of Joonmyun hyung on your wall?” Sehun scowls up at Joonmyun’s huge blown up face occupying a huge part of Jongdae’s wall, million dollar smile on full display while donning a maroon Christmas sweater and wait, is that a Christmas bauble tied on top of his head?  
  
“Well,” Jongdae huffs, still slightly put out by Sehun’s distraction. “He’s my favourite EXO-K member after all.” Sehun continues staring up at Joonmyun’s jolly grin, wholly unimpressed.  
  
“Take it off. I feel like he’s watching and is seconds away from reminding us to use protection,” Sehun grumbles. He’s totally not pouting.  
  
Jongdae shrugs. “He taped it on the wall himself as a joke, I haven’t bothered to take it off.” Sehun swats Jongdae away lightly when he leans in for a kiss, still glaring suspiciously at Joonmyun’s face.  
  
Jongdae could only cackle as he pulls the blanket over their heads before planting his mouth onto Sehun’s.


End file.
